The Milton Bradley Implementation
by Lisatronic3000
Summary: As she made her way past him into the living room, Amy halted abruptly, she was taken aback to discover that Sheldon's glass coffee table had been pushed back to make room for a large plastic mat—which had already been spread out on the floor, as if it were waiting for her. Shamy one shot set after 7x15, The Locomotive Manipulation.


**"The Milton Bradley Implementation"**

_**Disclaimers: "The Big Bang Theory" and its characters were created by Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady. I do not own, nor do I profit from the show or any of the characters. I also do not own the various other games, movies or TV shows I may reference. **__**This one shot is meant for entertainment purposes only.**_

_**Happy (Belated) Valentine's Day 2014 and Long Live the Shamy! **_

* * *

To commemorate Physics World magazine publishing Sheldon's most recent paper on quantum chromodynamics, Amy offered to treat him for their date night dinner in his apartment. What Sheldon didn't know is that she ordered all of his favorite toppings, as a small celebratory gesture, instead of the established 2-topping "compromise pie" as detailed in their relationship agreement.

According to Sheldon, his paper was generating a great deal of positive buzz around Caltech. Amy had hoped this latest development would put him in better spirits when it came to his work. He still hadn't entirely bounced back from the triple whammy to his scientific ego. First, there was his equation boo-boo with Steven Hawking, followed by him being forced to work with his office nemesis, Barry Kripke; which for some baffling reason, Sheldon continually referred to as Pervy McPervert.

Amy frowned to herself as she headed upstairs towards the fourth floor. The lowest blow of all had to be Sheldon believing he had discovered a new stable, super-heavy element that he excitedly wanted to christen "Sheldonite". He quickly realized that exact name was already reserved for a fictional ore in one of his beloved games. So after several unsuccessful attempts to contact Minecraft's creators, he was forced to reconsider his second choice, "Sheldenum".

Although that had been before Leonard eventually disproved his work, making the quest for a proper element name futile.

Holding the warm pizza box on one arm, Amy lighted rapped on his front door. She was excited to see his reaction to her little surprise and hoped it would bring a smile to his pale face. However, unbeknownst to her, Sheldon had a surprise of his own in store.

The door swung open almost immediately after her final knock. Amy felt her cheeks involuntarily burn pink at the sight of a puckish smirk already curling her boyfriend's mouth, "Good evening Dr. Fowler."

Taking a beat to process his sassy salutation, she returned his greeting with her own heartfelt smile, "Hello Sheldon."

As she made her way past him into the living room, Amy halted abruptly, she was taken aback to discover that Sheldon's glass coffee table had been pushed back to make room for a large plastic mat—which had already been spread out on the floor, as if it were waiting for her.

Her curiosity evident, she glanced back at Sheldon with a crinkle of her nose, "What's all this about?"

His cheekiness seemed to falter slightly in response to her question, "Isn't it obvious? It's Twister." He then gently relieved her of the cardboard box she had almost forgotten she was carrying. "The pizza smells good. Thank you for bringing it."

Still preoccupied by the change in scenery, she nodded, "You're welcome."

Lifting the box under his chin and inhaling deeply, Sheldon's eyes brightened. "Oh Amy, do I detect green peppers and black olives?" His giddy inquiry punctuated with an impatient lick of his lips.

Amy swallowed, internally lamenting on how, after years as a "couple", she had been unable to solicit that level of eagerness from his perfect, pink tongue.

"You do indeed …" she confirmed, "… in honor of your latest achievement. Congratulations. I'm proud of you."

A look of apprehension darkened his face as if he hadn't heard her, "But won't the green peppers trigger your acid reflux?"

That was the second time, since she had entered the apartment, that she had been taken aback; not by the fact that Sheldon remembered green peppers gave her heartburn, but that he had outwardly expressed concern for her well-being.

Amy knew with absolute certainty that Sheldon cared for her, yet, he seldom ever put voice to it. So, when those rare moments did happen, Amy found herself undeniably charmed.

"I can pick them off," she reassured him with a wink. "I am not really hungry anyway. I had a late lunch with a few colleagues and those steamed dumplings are still sticking to my ribs a bit."

Sheldon nodded in understanding, "I know the feeling." Sighing, he made his way to the kitchen and Amy thought she overheard him mutter under his breath, "I've had a dumpling sticking to my ribs for years."

The comment perplexed Amy, but she decided to leave it alone on the off-chance it might lead their date night conversation to one of Sheldon's self-diagnosed conditions. Measuring his moles was one thing; she was never opposed to actual skin-to-skin contact, albeit clinical. But she simply refused to humor any more of his hypochondriac-fuelled requests for x-rays in her lab.

And as much as Sheldon insisted it was, interrupting her neurological research to have her examine his various radiographs for signs of abnormalities was not her idea of intimacy.

Her gaze wandering to the mat again, Amy's toes squirmed in her loafers anxiously.

A game a Twister, on the other hand, had definite possibilities.

* * *

After their dinner and peppermint tea, to aid in digestion, the brilliant pair had spent the rest of their date winding themselves into a number of difficult poses; each determined not to let the other win. It had become a battle of wills as well as physical prowess.

Careful not to lose his balance, Sheldon stretched his arm to reach the Twister spinner. Keeping his focus on the arrow of chance he waited, somewhat impatiently, until it came to a full and complete stop. After a strained exhale, he announced the spinner's latest whim.

"Alright, right hand blue."

Amy's smaller body shuffled underneath her boyfriend's lanky frame to uncross her right arm. While lifting her hand off of a faded green circle, the neuroscientist was forced to use her peripheral vision in attempt to glide that same hand to the nearest patch of blue, her view being partially obstructed thanks to Sheldon's long torso.

Now in the throes of the game, Sheldon appeared increasingly uneasy and Amy could tell he was growing tired of holding himself up above her. She was careful to turn her face away before she spoke to avoid breathing on him, "Perhaps we should call it a draw? We've been at this for nearly an hour."

Her physicist's reply was immediate and stern.

"No."

"But Sheldon you seem …", suddenly letting out a tiny giggle, she became distracted for a few delightful seconds as Sheldon unintentionally teased the skin on her neck with his warm, peppermint scented breath, "… hot … and uncomfortable."

"Amy, I will have you know that I was once unceremoniously strung up to a flagpole by the elastic in my underwear. I dangled in the air for approximately one hour and eleven minutes before the integrity of the elastic gave way. And in that entire time, practically tasting cotton, not once did I give my brother and his hooligan buddies the satisfaction of crying uncle!" He boasted gruffly, his anger over the incident was still apparent. "Power wedgie be darned!"

Her immediate reaction was to console him with a pre-approved pat on the hand, since the gesture was now one of the few acceptable forms of physical contact in their relationship. Unfortunately, Amy was in no position to do much of anything if she didn't want to lose. All she could offer were words of comfort, "That's a terrible thing for a child to experience."

With a sheepish bite of his lip, Sheldon reddened, "Actually those jerk faces hoisted my colors during my most recent visit to Texas ... pardon my salty language."

"Oh." Amy blinked. "Nevertheless, it was a mean and unnecessary thing to do and I am sorry you had to go through that."

Despite the awkward pose he was in, he gave off a little shrug, "It wasn't that bad. I did use the time to mentally work on an elasticity equation, specifically as it relates to the calculation of seismic activity."

Mildly surprised, Amy gave her opponent a questioning look, "Sheldon, isn't that geology?"

"I was on vacation", he answered back defensively as he stretched to spin the arrow again. "Besides, what happens on the flagpole stays on the flagpole … right foot … yellow", redistributing his weight to his other arm, he cautiously raised his right leg. This motion brought their bodies even closer together.

Alarmingly, Sheldon's posture tightened as though someone had jammed a thumbtack into his buttock when his elbow inadvertently collided into one of his girlfriend's breasts, causing her to gasp in shock.

"Um, sorry …" he croaked; his voice losing all sternness as his right foot finally landed on a vacant yellow spot directly between her legs.

"It's okay Sheldon"; Amy responded raspingly, before clearing her throat, desperate to distract him before any panic could set in. "So, why an elasticity equation?"

Perking up, Sheldon seemed keen to explain, "I suppose it came to me because I happened to be wearing my Reed Richards underoos that day."

When his girlfriend said nothing, Sheldon, of course, felt obligated to go on with a suck of his teeth, "Reed Richards—the Marvel hero created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, otherwise known as Mr. Fantastic."

"What does that have to do with elasticity?" Amy replied absently, while trying to will away a creeping itch on the tip of her nose.

"I'm getting to that. You see, Mr. Fantastic is a scientific genius, not unlike me, and the leader of the Fantastic Four. He has the ability to stretch his body into incredible lengths and shapes."

"He must have been very popular with the ladies", Amy quipped.

With an innocent tone Amy was more than familiar with, he tilted his head curiously, "How so?"

"Oh, forget it.", she huffed, this time attempting to wiggle away the recurring itch.

Sheldon's wide forehead had begun to develop a light sheen of perspiration as the gap between their bodies shrunk considerably, not that she minded—they were practically face to face and chest to chest.

"Are you sure you don't want to throw in the towel Sheldon? I am trying to give you an easy way out ..." A sly smirk then formed on Amy's lips, "... especially since it appears that I am winning and you're not exactly known for being a gracious loser."

His eyes narrowed on hers, "Our game is in its infancy. En garde, Fowler."

Encouraged by the fact that Sheldon's mouth was achingly close, Amy met his challenging gaze in the hopes he would seize a new opportunity to close the space between them by joining his lips to hers as he had during their first Valentine's trip together as a couple.

Aware that her fingers were in dangerous proximity of her boyfriend's inner thigh, Amy spoke in the most seductive tone she could muster, "Which game are you referring to Dr. Cooper?"

Sheldon's determined stare faded and was replaced with contorted features of confusion. "We are playing Twister Amy ... and what's wrong with your voice? You sound like a bullfrog."

He quickly redistributed his weight again, this time pushing himself back up several inches away from her. "You aren't coming down with something are you? Should we call a timeout while I get the surgical masks?"

Huffing a second time, Amy tried not to outwardly pout as the door metaphorically shut on what could have been another tantalizing and spontaneous interlude. "Nope. I'm fine."

Sheldon peered down at her as a single eyebrow slid up. "Alright then, no more of this forfeit talk. I think I have proven I can handle a game designed to test the physical skill of children."

Being somewhat of a board game buff and proud of it, Amy felt compelled to correct him. She was sure he would do the same if their roles were reversed.

"Actually, the Milton Bradley Company originally advertised Twister as game of physical skill for adults, more specifically; swinging party goers and it was quite controversial at the time. Rival game companies accused Milton Bradley of selling..."

Amy instantly clammed up when she realized how she was unintentionally veering towards an awkward topic for Sheldon. Annoyed with the lack of closure, Sheldon let out a loud groaning whine. Understanding the unsubtle hint, Amy reluctantly finished her explanation.

"Rivals accused Milton Bradley of selling ... sex ... in a box."

The silence from her boyfriend was total—it didn't even sound like he was breathing.

Amy then realized she knew her boyfriend too well; this particular game selection of his couldn't be chalked up to playful whimsy. The list of things Sheldon Lee Cooper was willing to do without calculation was short and she was fairly certain that a game synonymous with intimate physical contact was not among them.

Mentally coaching herself not to hesitate, she drummed up the courage to ask the question she'd been meaning to ask since she walked through the door, "Sheldon, why did you pick Twister?"

Swallowing hard in response, it was a few seconds before Sheldon's lips slowly parted, his mouth shaping itself to speak.

But before he could answer, that damn itch had resurfaced, "Frick! Frick! Frick!" Amy squeaked.

Shutting her eyes tightly, she tried to breathe through the annoyance until it subsided, but it refused to. Resisting the temptation to lift her hand to engage in a simple act of scratching was becoming unbearable. It was maddening. Twitching her nose like a caffeinated bunny, it now looked as if she would be the one to forfeit the game.

Amy was on the brink, about to admit defeat when she felt something soft offer relief to her irritated skin. Opening her eyes, she was presented with a fuzzy collage of flesh tones. This new sensation was gentle, soothing, and a bit alarming. It was an unexpected act of comfort and tenderness from the most unlikely of sources.

Sheldon, her mysophobic boyfriend, was intentionally nuzzling his girlfriend's nose, with his.

After a few seconds he shyly turned his face away, avoiding her eyes. "Better?"

"Better." She confirmed in a small voice.

With a curt nod he extended his arm again to spin for her turn. "Loser washes the dishes. Winner gets a kiss."

Her lungs stilled, holding her breath hostage during that exhilarating instant. Unable to contain her jubilation, her eyes went round with a sizable amount of astonishment, parroting him, "Winner gets a kiss?"

Sheldon corrected himself firmly. "A cookie—winner gets a cookie."

As usual, Amy's elation with the possibility of more physical affection was short-lived. "Silly me." She replied dryly.

"Right hand green." He said quickly, ignoring her sarcasm. Or perhaps more likely, missing it entirely. "Twister requires concentration, so cool it chatty Cathy."

Unimpressed with his command but acquiescing with a sigh, she swiftly slid her right hand off of blue to cross her arm between them again, and in doing so, skimmed the length of Sheldon's inner thigh with her knuckles. The contact caused him to tense up as though he were goosed by yet another phantom thumbtack.

Amy instantly went scarlet with embarrassment, "Oh my!"

"It's okay ... it's okay ..." He reassured her and to a degree, Amy believed, himself as well. With a timid smile, there was an audible crack in his normally unflappable tone of superiority, "... it's part of the game and ..."

Sheldon's gaze then traveled from her eyes, to her lips, and back again with an expression Amy could only describe as _inquisitive_.

" ... I want that cookie."

* * *

**_~END~ _**

**_Thank you for reading. Reviews welcomed. _**

**_Author's note: I want to thank my sister from another mister for her continued support and encouragement. I heart you Lauren! 3_**


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